


My Dearest, Felix

by nikkiRA



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Love Letters, M/M, Marking, but overly sappy dirty talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:02:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27241636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkiRA/pseuds/nikkiRA
Summary: Felix is gone for a couple of months, and Dimitri is having trouble coping. Sylvain suggests he writes dirty letters to help.He takes a seat at his desk, taking out a blank sheet of parchment, but he only manages to write My Dearest, Felix before he starts drawing a blank. He’s not entirely sure what he’s supposed to say. Does he tell Felix how much he misses him? How lonely he is? Does he write about the dreams that plague him each night, of skin and lips and Felix’s breathless noises, which belong to Dimitri alone? Felix would surely scoff to receive such a letter.But what had Sylvain said? That he didn’t even have to send it, just had to get these thoughts out of his head?
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 29
Kudos: 161





	My Dearest, Felix

**Author's Note:**

> WITH A COMMA AFTER DEAREST~
> 
> sorry i couldn't not make that reference anyway here's this

It isn’t until Sylvain gently lays a hand on his arm that Dimitri realizes he’s zoned out. He jerks a little bit, and when he happens to look down he sees that he has snapped his quill in half. 

“Are you feeling alright, Your Majesty?” Dedue asks, and to his horror, Dimitri realizes that the entire room is quiet and staring at him. 

“Ah, yes,” he says guiltily. “My apologies.”

“We can always postpone the meeting,” Gustave starts, but Dimitri shakes his head sharply. He knows he should not be so offended at the careful way he is often handled, of the way the people around him are quick to notice any change that might signal something worse. It is only because they care about him that they fret. But it can be frustrating, as well. Sometimes he feels less like a king and more like a child. 

“I assure you, I am alright, although I hope you can forgive me for letting my mind wander during our meetings.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m almost never paying attention,” Sylvain says. A few of the older counsellors frown at this, but Dimitri thinks he sees Dedue stifle a smile. Dimitri might have been more concerned if Sylvain hadn’t made clear on more than one occasion just how much he did actually listen, always more than pulling his weight during long and often extremely dull meetings. Gustave nods once and then continues talking about… land distribution, was it? Or was it the proposed tax law? He looks down at his notes for some context, and is reminded of his broken quill. 

Sylvain passes him the one he had been using. “I never take notes, anyway,” he says with a wink. Dimitri takes the quill with a grateful smile, and he lifts his head to look at Gustave and remembers what had started the whole thing. His eyes land on the empty chair to his right. 

Felix has been gone for almost three weeks, now. It’s not uncommon for him to take long absences from the capital; he had his own territory to run on top of being right hand to the King, and Dimitri could not expect him to neglect Fraldarius lands and people. Felix took fierce pride in his role as Duke, something that filled Dimitri with happiness each time he was shown. And it’s not as though his absence in Fhirdiad was considerable, or anything. Felix hated council meetings; he often butted heads with the older members, and he had a deep disdain for Gustave that he didn’t even attempt to hide. If anything, things tended to go a little smoother when he wasn’t here, although he always made up for that when he returned, usually with a long list of disagreements that he was a little too eager to take up with the dusty councillors. 

No, it wasn’t Fhirdiad that missed Felix, nor was it her King. It was Dimitri the man who missed him, with an intensity that had him snapping quills in half. Felix would likely scoff if he could see Dimitri now, zoning out like he was a young prince during his classes, but Felix would have to be here for that, and that’s where the problem lies. It feels like Dimitri has spent a significant part of his life just missing Felix; between visits when he was a child, and then those years when Felix avoided him like Dimitri was some vile thing. Their reconciliation had been slow, and Dimitri should be used to missing Felix by now. 

But not like  _ this.  _ Not since nine months ago, when they had stayed up far too late, drunk on fancy wine as they read through documents they probably should have been sober for, and the candlelight had looked like a halo behind Felix’s head, and Dimitri had leaned over to kiss him. Felix had tasted like strawberry wine, and Dimitri felt drunk on more than just liquor, and Felix had kissed him so sweetly, and Dimitri’s entire world changed. Ever since that night, Felix had returned home far less, and for a much shorter time, instead spending his days with his King and his nights in Dimitri’s bed. But Felix loved Fraldarius too much to keep that up, and he had left three weeks ago, complaining the entire time about how tired he was -- and in his defense, Dimitri  _ had  _ kept him up all night. 

_ You’re being ridiculous,  _ Felix had said.  _ I’ll be back in less than two moons.  _ He had tried to sound annoyed, but he had clung to Dimitri just as fiercely as Dimitri had clung to him, and their goodbye kiss had been a little  _ too  _ desperate. It should be embarrassing, but it’s not. It feels like everything he was never supposed to have. It feels like a sunrise. 

He’s never had anything like this. He had never even looked far enough ahead to consider it, could never conceive of a time when he would be happy and healthy enough to be able to share himself with another person. He had been a child, and then he had been a ghost, and then he had been a beast; he’s still getting used to being a man, let alone a king. 

If he had ever looked ahead, though, if he’d ever forced himself to consider the future, he’s pretty sure he’d have been unable to picture this with anyone except Felix. Perhaps that’s why he had avoided looking at his future head-on for so long; because for a not insignificant amount of time, Felix hadn’t been in it, and that wasn’t a future that Dimitri was particularly interested in. It’s interesting to look back at his past like that, to remember a time when things were so dark, when he carried gravestones around his neck and lived only for the dead. Dimitri still hears them sometimes, still hears their cries and their demands, but he’s getting better at not listening, at remembering that the words his twisted psyche put in the mouths of his father or Glenn were lies his guilty conscience told himself. It’s easy to see that now, when the war is over and the country is rebuilding, surrounded by people who cared about him, with Felix in his bed each night, pressing kisses to the shadows of wounds decorating Dimitri’s skin and making him feel things Dimitri had never felt before. It’s easier to remember that no matter how dark the night got, the sun still rose each morning. He thinks maybe he’s getting used to living. 

Perhaps a little  _ too  _ used to it, he thinks, as he looks down at Sylvain’s quill, now snapped in half just like his own. He stares at it forlornly; he can hear Sylvain stifling his laugh, and after a stiff silence Dedue finally says, “I think perhaps we should call it for today.” Nobody else at the table dares to protest this, and there are only a few disapproving glances thrown his way as everyone except for Sylvain and Dedue leave the room. 

“Dimitri,” Dedue starts, but Dimitri holds up his hand. 

“Don’t worry, Dedue, it is nothing as serious as you may fear. I am simply having a hard time focusing, is all.”

He knows this will not be enough. Over the years since the war ended Dimitri had had a few of what Mercedes and Dedue have classified as relapses, and although they do not linger long, an inability to focus is often the first sign. Sure enough, neither Dedue or Sylvain look particularly convinced, and Dimitri sighs, already feeling his ears going red. 

“If you must know, I… find myself thinking of Felix, to be honest.”

Dedue’s expression remains inscrutable, but Sylvain immediately grins and throws an arm around Dimitri’s shoulders. “I see,” he says, nudging Dimitri good naturedly. “You’re not sick, you’re just hor --”

“Sylvain,” Dedue says, cutting him off, possibly noticing the way Dimitri’s ears turned such a vibrant shade of red it seemed liable that they might fall off at any minute. 

“Hey, there’s no shame in missing Felix,” Sylvain says. He has a look on his face that is making alarm bells go off in Dimitri’s head. “I get it. You’re under a lot of stress. You’re all… pent up.” Sylvain winks at him. Dimitri wonders if he should pull the king card for the first time to get him to stop saying things. “We’ve all been there, eh Dedue?” Sylvain nudges Dedue, who gives him a look so dry it could light parchment aflame. 

“Don’t look at me like that, you big flirt,” Sylvain says. “Look, I’m not just teasing. I have a… suggestion.”

Dimitri blanches. He can’t even begin to think what Sylvain’s suggestion might be. “Really, Sylvain, that’s not necessary.”

“It isn’t anything weird, I swear,” Sylvain says, although Dimitri has a feeling that their definitions of  _ weird  _ differ greatly. “Seriously. Have you tried writing?”

Dimitri was so ready for a truly ludicrous suggestion that it takes him a while before he realizes that that’s the end of the suggestion. “Writing what?”

“You know,” Sylvain says, even though Dimitri obviously  _ doesn’t.  _ “Dirty letters.”

“Sylvain --”

“No, I’m serious! You don’t have to send them, you just need to get it all out of your system. That was like, the eighth quill you’ve broken this week.”

Dimitri flushes red. “I… wasn’t aware it had gotten that bad.”

“Just because you’re the king doesn’t mean you’re not human,” Sylvain says, clapping Dimitri on the back. “And you’ve got to do something before we run out of quills, and Felix won’t be home for another moon. Come on Dedue, back me up here.”

“While I may not agree with Sylvain’s… delivery,” Dedue says delicately, as Sylvain snorts, “I do agree that something must be done. For all of our sakes.”

Dimitri looks between his two closest friends and says, awkwardly, “Er, alright. Thank you for the advice, Sylvain. And I am… sorry about the quills.”

Sylvain grins at him, not uncomfortable in the least, and Dimitri takes his leave, heading rather miserably to his office and missing Felix more than he can bear. 

* * *

Dimitri is too busy for the next couple of days to give much thought to what Sylvain had said. But he is lying in bed a few days later, and he has been tossing and turning for hours, and he misses Felix like a limb, and he thinks -- why not.

He takes a seat at his desk, taking out a blank sheet of parchment, but he only manages to write  _ My dearest Felix  _ before he starts drawing a blank. He’s not entirely sure what he’s supposed to say. Does he tell Felix how much he misses him? How lonely he is? Does he write about the dreams that plague him each night, of skin and lips and Felix’s breathless noises, which belong to Dimitri alone? Felix would surely scoff to receive such a letter. 

But what had Sylvain said? That he didn’t even have to send it, just had to get these thoughts out of his head?

Dimitri puts the quill to the paper and starts to write, letting the words come without overthinking it.

_ My dearest Felix,  _

_ I admit I do feel foolish penning this letter, but after what feels like a lifetime separated from you I can’t hold myself back any longer. Something must be done; I fear I will fall back into insanity without you here beside me.  _

_ I know you would scoff if I were to tell you this directly. You always get so embarrassed when I say such things, and I confess I say them mostly just to see the blush on your cheeks. You look so pretty when you flush red, Felix. I see it creep down your collar and have to fight the urge to strip you down and put my mouth to you, heedless of where we are. Perhaps you would call me a beast again, if you knew the things I want to do to you. How I wish to put my lips to you and mark you, to lay claim to you as mine. You will judge me for these base instincts, as you should, but the thought of you bearing my marks for the world to see excites me.  _

It more than excited him. Dimitri stops his quill, closing his eyes as he thinks about the blank canvas of Felix’s skin. Beneath the warm material of his sleep clothes his cock is beginning to show interest as he remembers the way Felix writhed beneath him, ordering him not to leave marks where other people could see. Dimitri always listened, of course, but -- 

_ I think that I will mark you when you return, Felix. I think I will pin you down and lay claim to your skin for everyone to see. I want everyone to know you are mine. My Felix. I want to be the only one to hear the noises that you make when you are spread out so beautiful on top of me. You are the most perfect picture, Felix, with your hair fanned out around you and your lips red and swollen, my perfect match. Like you were made for me, and I for you. _

He is fully hard now, the image of Felix in his mind so clear that when he closes his eyes it is as though he is really there. Dimitri shoves his pants down his thighs, wrapping a hand around his cock. He continues to write, though, even as he pleasures himself; the quill is a little less steady, his letters just the slightest bit messier, but it’s still legible. 

_ Goddess, I miss you so. You do not often let me get sentimental, so let me take this time to tell you, where you will never see, that I love you like no one has ever loved another. And it is not some beastly possessiveness that makes me talk like this, Felix. It is merely that I want the world to know how much I love you. How much we belong to each other. That I am man as much as king.  _

Dimitri closes his eyes, leaning his head back slightly as he imagines Felix walking into a meeting with lovebites all over him. Everyone knows about them, of course, but no one ever mentions it, turns a blind eye as long as they are discreet enough. It’s why Felix always warned him never to mark him. But Dimitri pictures him now, taking his seat at Dimitri’s right side, bruises uncovered on his neck for the entire room to see, Fhirdiad’s worst kept secret staring them right in the face. His hand is too dry, so he spits into his palm and works himself faster, wishing his hands were smaller like Felix’s, picturing the way his back arched whenever Dimitri entered him, the way Dimitri’s name fell from his lips, the way -- 

Dimitri comes, spurting up and hitting the bottom of his desk. He slumps back in his chair. He’s going to have to clean semen off the underside of his desk, but, well -- 

He has to hand it to Sylvain. He certainly feels better. 

* * *

Over the next month, Dimitri writes a few more letters. His productivity is vastly improved, and he stops snapping quills in half, but he does have to deal with Sylvain’s knowing grins all the time. He doesn’t miss Felix any less, but he doesn’t feel quite as pent up and liable to snap at any moment. He only writes them late at night when he can’t sleep, spilling his feelings onto the parchment with little thought to what he’s actually saying. He usually ends up pleasuring himself, as well, even though the letters aren’t actually that explicit; he writes the word  _ cock  _ once and is so thoroughly embarrassed that he scratches it out hard enough that he breaks through the parchment. If Sylvain were to read them he would likely tease Dimitri about what his definition of dirty talk was, but he doesn’t feel comfortable talking in extreme detail about having sex with Felix; it is enough simply to imagine it as he writes, to put the depth of his love to parchment and imagine them reunited. 

The night before Felix is meant to return home Dimitri is intensely restless. If the timing worked the way it was supposed to, Felix should be returning in the late afternoon, mere hours away, but it feels like another lifetime. He stares at the wall, and then at the ceiling, and then at the wall again, until he admits defeat and makes his way over to the desk. 

_ My beloved, Felix,  _

_ In less than a day you will be with me again, my love. I feel the urge to count the seconds, but instead I will write this letter to try and distract me from the pain in my chest. I wonder how you are taking this separation -- probably nowhere near as badly as I am, but I hope you miss me, still.  _

_ The worst thing is I know that when you arrive tomorrow, I will not be able to do all that I wish. It is times like this that I curse our positions, when all I want is to steal you away to our bed and worship every inch of you. I can only imagine all of the official business we will have to sift through before I have you to myself. It will not be easy to hold myself back from you -- part of me wants to take you as soon as I see you, use my power as king to send everyone away so I can fuck you the way I so desperately crave.  _

_ Do you remember the day when you convinced Mercedes to say that I was ill? We spent all day in bed; I kissed every inch of your body and fucked you until you knew nothing but my name. I wish that we could live every day like that, my love, but I suppose I will have to content myself with stolen moments and nights that never last long enough.  _

He still thinks about that day, of Mercedes’ cheeky face as she explained that His Majesty was fine, he just needed a day of rest, not to be disturbed, very important. It was a scheme Dedue and Felix had cooked up, when the stress lines on Dimitri’s face wouldn’t smooth out, when the nightmares didn’t end when he woke up. Felix had been devoted to him that day, bathing Dimitri and working the knots out of his hair, telling him old tales and myths as he smoothed gentle fingers over Dimitri’s body, until his voice was the only sound Dimitri heard. After his bath Dimitri had brought him over to the bed and kissed him until they both were hard and crazy with desire for each other, and all other thoughts left Dimitri’s head until all he knew was Felix. 

He still needs that, sometimes. When the nightmares seem too real. When he hears the voices of the damned. But Dedue makes him a tea each day made with herbs that he and Mercedes found, and it never goes away, but it’s manageable. He isn’t alone anymore, eating whatever he can find to survive, nothing but revenge in his heart. He is so much more, now. 

He comes thinking about the way Felix always tries to bite back his moans, breathless pleas escaping his clamped lips against his will, Dimitri’s name in his throat as his nails dug crescents into Dimitri’s arms. Dimitri had buried his head in Felix’s neck as he spilled inside him, but he hadn’t missed the soft way Felix had muttered  _ I love you,  _ so quiet Dimitri was sure he wasn’t supposed to hear. 

When he’s cleaned himself up he folds up the letter. In the locked top drawer of his desk is an envelope marked  _ Felix,  _ and he slips it in among the rest. It might have been better to leave the envelope marked blank, but with all the  _ other  _ envelopes in the drawer he would rather not have any concerns about mixing them up. The only ones who had the key to this drawer were Dedue, who would never read Dimitri’s personal correspondence, and Felix himself, but Felix hasn’t opened this drawer once throughout the years; he pretty much only had the key on the off chance that both Dimitri  _ and  _ Dedue lost their copies. So he’s not concerned about anyone finding them, and it feels wrong to burn them, even if they were never going to be sent. 

Dimitri closes the drawer and locks it before crawling back into bed. Tomorrow Felix would be home, and his bed would no longer be empty. 

* * *

Felix arrives late, stomping into the council meeting and taking a seat at Dimitri’s side, glaring heavily at any of the older members who have the courage to give him the stink eye about it. Dimitri reaches out under the table and grabs a hold of Felix’s knee, squeezing it hard in his joy at seeing him again; Felix reaches a hand down and squeezes Dimitri’s, but whether it’s a hello or a request to not squeeze quite so hard is impossible to know. 

“Welcome back, Felix,” he says, in a voice that practically  _ screams  _ adoration. “How was your journey?”

“Cold,” Felix says. “And my ass hurts, so let's hurry this meeting up.”

Goddess, Dimitri has missed him. 

“Duke Fraldarius,” says one of Dimitri’s oldest and least liked ministers. “We were just discussing His Majesty’s plans for the childcare allowance.”

“What about it?” Felix asks sharply. 

“I was simply expressing my concern that an allowance would cause people to take advantage of the King’s good graces --”

Dimitri is trying to figure out a way to nicely tell him to fuck off with that bullshit excuse when Felix says, “What would you know about the King’s good graces?”

Sylvain puts his quill down; Dedue rubs his temples, and they all brace themselves for a fight. 

* * *

The meeting ends with no bloodshed, which, if he’s being honest, is always a concern, but Felix has thankfully gotten better at challenging the older members of the council to duels. Most of the meeting consists entirely of Felix tearing Lord Oliver a new asshole, as if he had been saving up his thoughts during his time away and now wanted to unleash them all at once. Sylvain enjoys himself immensely, and even Dedue hides a smile at a few of Felix’s word choices, and by the time Gustave suggests that they adjourn for now, Dimitri is ready to forgo any thoughts of a romantic reunion in the privacy of his chambers and instead fuck Felix over the war room table. 

The older members clear out of the room fairly quickly, leaving Dimitri, Dedue, Felix, and Sylvain. Sylvain is deep in conversation with Felix, but Dimitri can see the way his eyes keep flicking his way, and eventually he decides to throw convention to the wind -- he is with his friends, after all -- and grabs Felix into a hug, lifting him clear off his feet. 

“Dimitri!” Felix objects, arms wrapping around Dimitri’s neck and feet flailing. He smells like horse and winter air, but Dimitri thinks there is no better smell in the world. 

Sylvain and Dedue let themselves out of the room, but Dimitri pays them no attention. He drops Felix back on the ground and kisses him; Felix pushes up on his tiptoes to get closer, and the rest of the world drops away with Felix in his arms once again. 

“I missed you,” he says. “I thought about you every day. I didn’t know how I would survive.”

“Idiot,” Felix says affectionately. “It was only two moons.” But he kisses Dimitri again, hand gripping his collar tightly. “I missed you,” he says quietly into the kiss. “Obviously.”

Dimitri kisses him; Felix’s mouth opens beneath his, kiss desperate and messy after so long apart, and Dimitri pushes him backwards towards the table, but just Felix’s ass hits it they hear from outside the room Sylvain’s voice, elevated to get their attention -- 

“You want to see His Majesty? Yeah, of course, not a problem at all, I’m sure he’s able to see you no problem, right Dedue?”

Dimitri pulls away, annoyance curdling in his stomach. Felix must see it on his face, because he brings a hand up to gently adjust Dimitri’s eye-patch and then kisses him gently on the lips. 

“I’ll see you tonight,” he says, before stepping away just as the door opens. 

His work is never done. 

* * *

He’s a little late getting to bed, always having to deal with something, and by the time he excuses himself for the night he’s so wound tight that he’s almost snappish. It’s a relief to finally open the door into his chambers, especially since Felix is there waiting for him. Dimitri shrugs out of his cloak, hanging it on the hook before turning towards Felix, who is standing behind Dimitri’s desk, a piece of parchment in his hands. Dimitri doesn’t think anything of this until he takes a few steps closer and sees that his top drawer is open. 

Something very much like panic thrums to life in his heart. “Felix?”

Felix looks up. His face is absolutely devoid of any emotion, which means he’s having too many emotions and is shutting down. He looks back down at the letter in his hand -- Dimitri is close enough to see that it is one of them -- and then he says, “I needed your seal. I thought -- it was addressed to me.”

And it  _ was,  _ wasn’t it, because Dimitri had decided to tempt fate and assume there was nothing Felix would need in there. 

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri says, because what else  _ should  _ he say? “Sylvain suggested it as a way to, to get my feelings out and… unwind,” he finishes, rather lamely. He’s about to say something else -- although what, he’s no damn clue -- when Felix puts the letter back on the desk. Dimitri watches, unsure if Felix is going to storm out or yell or challenge him, and is taken aback when instead -- 

Felix throws himself at Dimitri, who catches him with no hesitation. Felix’s lips come crashing down onto his own, faces banging together in something that is less of a kiss and more of a headbutt as Felix shoves his tongue rather inelegantly into Dimitri’s mouth. Felix shifts in Dimitri’s arms, straightening his back and hitching his legs more firmly around Dimitri’s waist as he kisses him, hands scrabbling at Dimitri’s back. 

Dimitri turns around and brings him to the bed, throwing him down and then crawling over him, sealing their lips together again. Felix is pulling at his clothes as if he wants to tear them off, not just remove them, and when Dimitri tries to open the front of Felix’s shirt, he does, actually, tear it. Felix doesn’t make a comment the way he usually does, though, he just spreads his legs a little wider and bites down on Dimitri’s lip. 

Dimitri lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a growl, but he doesn’t have time to feel embarrassed about it. He shoves the shirt off of Felix’s shoulders and then leans down to bite across his chest as Felix winds his fingers into Dimitri’s hair. 

“Dimitri,” he says, voice hoarse as his fingers flex in Dimitri’s hair. “Your letter, what you said, about -- about marking me --”

“I didn’t mean it,” Dimitri says quickly. “Or, I didn’t have to mean it. I just --”

“I want you to,” he says breathlessly. “I want you to. For everyone to see.”

Dimitri can’t stop the moan that rips from him. Felix leans his head back, baring his throat, and Dimitri swoops in on it like he is the predator and Felix the prey, sinking his teeth into Felix’s skin and biting down hard. Felix jerks against him as Dimitri licks over the spot, hand pulling at the strings of Felix’s pants. He nearly rips those off, too, in his hurry to get to bare skin, but soon enough he’s worked Felix’s pants down his thighs. He bites right down over the apple of Felix’s throat, relishing in his strangled cry. Felix pushes rather ineffectively at Dimitri’s shirt. 

“Get this  _ off,”  _ he snarls, and Dimitri nearly rips it in his haste. Felix gives him a glare that is drastically lessened by how red his lips are and the way he’s panting. “How come you never rip  _ your  _ clothes?” He says peevishly, but Dimitri doesn’t answer, just leans down to kiss him again, enjoying the way Felix’s hands start roaming all over Dimitri’s bare chest, fingers squeezing his nipples and nails biting into the fleshy part of his tits. He pulls back to pull Felix’s pants completely off, throwing them somewhere across the room before he fumbles with his own. When all of their clothes are in a heap on the floor Dimitri leans down, relishing in the feeling of Felix’s body stretched out beneath him, skin to skin. He kisses Felix, hand coming up to cup his face as Felix wraps his legs around Dimitri’s waist. 

Dimitri pulls away, pressing kisses to Felix’s jaw and up to his ear so that when he speaks his lips brush against the shell of it. Felix shudders beneath him, clinging to him tightly, hips rolling up against Dimitri’s. “Felix,” he says, a little breathlessly. “I thought -- you always said not to leave marks.”

“I didn’t want to flaunt it,” Felix says, clearly beginning to be unhappy with Dimitri’s pace, because he tries to work a hand between them to grab Dimitri’s cock. “I didn’t want… everyone to see, to think badly of you, for --” Dimitri cuts him off with another kiss, and Felix bites down so hard on his lip that he can taste blood. 

“I don’t care about them,” Dimitri says. “You have every piece of my heart. Why should the world not know that?”

“You’re so embarrassing,” Felix says, but his kiss is a little softer this time. “Fuck me, then, and mark me up. Let them all see that I’m yours.”

Another animalistic growl tears its way out of Dimitri’s throat. Felix tilts his head back again and Dimitri sinks his teeth into the skin above his collarbone as Felix lets out a moan. Dimitri pulls back briefly to fumble around in the side table, fingers finally curling around their much used bottle of oil. He spreads it liberally over his fingers, expecting Felix to be tighter than usual after so long, but to his surprise he finds he is able to slide a finger in with little resistance. He looks at Felix in surprise. 

“I --” He blushes red and averts his gaze. “Did you expect me not to miss you? -- Oh, shut up.”

Dimitri thinks about Felix, separated from him for so long, fingering himself to the thought of Dimitri, his slender fingers never filling him up the way he liked. He kisses Felix once and mutters “You’re perfect,” before biting down on Felix’s neck again, sucking hard on the skin as he continues to finger him. Felix’s fingers are still wound tight in Dimitri’s hair, breath coming heavy as Dimitri marks his neck. When he leans back to view his handiwork there are a few nice bruises blooming on Felix’s skin, but not nearly enough; Dimitri pushes another finger inside of Felix’s ass and resumes his attack on his neck. 

He’s three fingers deep in Felix’s ass when Felix finally loses his patience, tugging on Dimitri’s hair. Dimitri always liked to be more careful than Felix; he wasn’t modest enough not to realize he was larger than average, and he was terrified of hurting Felix. But Felix always determined when he was ready, and Dimitri didn’t want to doubt his word. 

“Come on, come on,” he says. “It’s been two months, Dimitri, just  _ fuck me.” _

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He leans back and lifts Felix’s hips up, draping his legs across Dimitri’s thighs. He spreads more oil over his cock before he lines Felix up. It’s fascinating watching his cock enter Felix’s hole, and he always has a moment where he thinks that it’s impossible, that there’s no way he can fit. But Felix’s hole always accepts him greedily, sucking him in and tightening around him, the muscles in Felix’s thighs flexing as Dimitri splits him open, watching in wonder the place where their bodies join. Felix groans appreciatively as Dimitri continues to push in, mouth open and drool at the corner as Dimitri’s hips press flush against him. 

“D’mitri,” he says, slightly slurred, fingers digging into Dimitri’s knee. Dimitri pulls out slowly, watching the way Felix clings to him, the way his hole clenches when Dimitri unsheathes himself entirely. Felix makes a noise of objection that morphs into a sigh of contentment as Dimitri pushes in again, hands moving beneath Felix’s thighs to lift him up more, so Dimitri is essentially pounding into him from above. Felix is always so tight; Dimitri knows his body like his own and angles them again so that he is hitting Felix’s prostate with each deep thrust. Felix’s cock is curved up against his stomach and leaking, and he has bruises and bite marks spread across his chest and neck. His lips are red and swollen, eyes closed and mouth open as he gets fucked, fingernails digging moons into Dimitri’s skin. He had never expected to have anything like this in his life, but now that he does he doesn’t think he will ever be able to live without it. 

He lifts Felix’s leg up and bites into his calf, enjoying Felix’s strangled cry of surprise. Felix reaches out, hand grasping at nothing, and Dimitri entwines their fingers together, with one hand gripping Felix’s and the other under his thigh. Dimitri closes his eyes and lets himself sink into the feeling of Felix clenched tight around him, of the moans he can’t stop, of the peace he feels like this. It feels better than it ever has, the two months apart making every touch and kiss and sensation feel even stronger, and it isn’t long until Felix is crying out his name, coming untouched across his bruise speckled chest. Dimitri looks at him, marked up and covered in cum, Dimitri’s name spilling from his lips, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen -- he shoves himself deep and comes deep inside of Felix, marking him just as assuredly as he had across his chest and neck.  _ Mine. Mine.  _

He eases Felix’s legs back down, watching with interest the way a bead of his cum spills out of Felix’s used hole as Dimitri pulls out. He grabs his shirt off of the ground and uses it to clean the cum off of Felix’s stomach, and when he throws it back onto the ground (he’ll deal with that tomorrow -- there were more important things) and turns back, Felix’s eyes are open and bright. 

Dimitri says, “You’re not allowed to leave for that long again.”

Felix’s lips quirk up as Dimitri lies down beside him, turning onto their sides and tangling their legs together. Dimitri moves a sweaty strand of hair out of Felix’s eyes. “I’m serious. I broke 15 quills.”

“You broke  _ fifteen  _ quills?”

“I did. I can’t imagine how many more I would have broken if Sylvain hadn’t suggested to… write about my feelings.”

“If you didn’t want me to read the letters why did you write my name on the envelope?” Felix asks, in a tone that sounds like it’s meant to be exasperated but comes out simply fond. 

“I didn’t want to mix them up!” Dimitri says. Felix raises an eyebrow and Dimitri chuckles slightly, running a hand across Felix’s chest. “I suppose I wasn’t thinking ahead. But… well, I’d say it worked out, didn’t it?”

Felix takes a look down at his chest and sighs. “There’s no hiding this,” he says. “I’m assuming my neck looks as bad as my chest.”

Dimitri leans in to kiss the lovebites. “I wouldn’t call it bad,” he says. Felix wraps an arm around him and shifts closer. 

“Are you prepared for this?” He asks, voice uncharacteristically soft. “If you’re not -- I can --”

Dimitri cuts him off with another kiss. “Let all the world be made aware of how much I love you,” he whispers into Felix’s mouth. “I am not ashamed.”

Felix kisses him back, a hint of something in it that Dimitri can’t quite place. Something like relief. 

“Maybe the scandal will shock Lord Oliver to death,” Felix says. Dimitri laughs and then pretends he didn’t. 

“I wouldn’t count on it,” is all he says. Felix shoves in closer, body saying all the things he cannot say with his words. Dimitri hears  _ I love you  _ in the way he shoves his face in Dimitri’s collarbone, hears  _ I’m always going to come back  _ in the curl of an arm around his waist, hears  _ All that I am belongs to you, and you to me  _ in the kisses pressed butterfly light to Dimitri’s skin. It feels like the beginning of something, even though he’s not sure what. 

Whatever it is, he’s confident he can handle it. He runs his fingers through Felix’s hair and presses a kiss to the top of his head, and it doesn’t take him long to sink into the best sleep he’s had in two months. 

**Author's Note:**

> twitter @felixfraldaddy


End file.
